


Unforseen

by SysOpRunner



Series: Crossing paths [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SysOpRunner/pseuds/SysOpRunner
Summary: Tsukishima's body is doing strange things: his muscles are tensing up for a fight, adrenaline coursing through his blood, making his skin tingle, setting off flashes of phantom light in his eyes. Yet simultaneously he’s relaxing with the knowledge that what he wants the most, what he needs is right within reach.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: Crossing paths [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011135
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	Unforseen

**Author's Note:**

> A quick followup to Unprovoked, because I can't resist the dynamic between these two.

The lights rolling by the train windows are steadily getting more numerous as the tracks cut through the suburbs and enter the city. Tsukishima sighs as he feels the train slow down. Twenty minutes and he'll be home. Away games are always more stressful, with more hostile crowds than at home, fewer supporters, and the idleness of traveling to deal with. The way back is always hard for him. He's got all the nervous excitement of the game still coursing through him and, in this case, the satisfaction of winning wound tight inside, and nothing to do with all that energy. It always takes him a while to relax after a game, especially a good one like today. Maybe a good long soak in his tub to help ease the tension… he sighs again, gets up, and collects his bag from the overhead rack. The train rolls to a stop, the doors slide open, and Tsukishima steps into the cold night air, pulling up the zipper on his jacket and stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

He's thinking of how long it will take to fill the tub with hot water. He's wondering if it will be too late to call Kuroo because hearing his voice is the one thing that would ease this tension, that would wind him up even tighter before releasing him completely. He climbs the stairs and turns the key in the lock. He steps in, toeing off his shoes in the dark because he doesn't want to turn on the lights and see how empty his little apartment is without Kuroo's jacket slung over a chair, without his laptop abandoned carelessly in the middle of the floor, without his head of wild hair on his pillow… He drops his bag by the door, takes a step inside and he freezes. He stops dead in his tracks because he can tell, although he can't see anything, he can tell there is someone just behind him. 

A hand slides slowly up his back, up to his neck and a rough whisper sounds in his ear "Don't move."

Tsukishima's body is doing strange things: his muscles are tensing up for a fight, adrenaline coursing through his blood, making his skin tingle, setting off flashes of phantom light in his eyes. Yet simultaneously he’s relaxing with the knowledge that what he wants the most, what he _needs_ is right within reach. He feels Kuroo's long fingers slip into the hair on the nape of his neck. He leans his head back into the touch and answers "It was a mistake to give you your own key," and he tries to turn around. 

Strong hands keep him in place and that same whisper purrs in his ear again: "Don't move." Tsukishima swallows hard because this voice does things to him he can't even begin to explain. The hand slips out of his hair and he hears the swish of fabric on fabric. He feels Kuroo's body close behind him. Even though he's wearing a jacket and they're not even touching, he feels his back heating up. Then his glasses are taken off and something soft is pressing across his face, covering his eyes. He raises his hand instinctively but the voice in his ear harshly commands "Don't. Move." and he obeys, dropping his hand to his side. He feels a long silky strip of fabric being pressed across his eyes and knotted behind his head. Gods, is he blindfolding him with his tie?! Tsukishima's knees go weak. He keeps still while Kuroo’s arms reach around him to unzip his jacket. He feels the jacket being pulled back from his shoulders and Kuroo’s lips at the base of his neck. The contact makes him shiver and he leans into the body behind him. Kuroo’s hands slide the jacket down to his elbows while his mouth is gently sucking at the skin on his neck, occasionally biting until Tsukishima is reduced to a shivering wreck. He feels Kuroo move away and he shivers, this time with uncertainty. He strains his hearing, trying to guess where the other man is but Kuroo is very quiet and he starts in surprise as he feels a hand land softly on his chest and slide up until it’s cupping his chin and tilting his head up so that lips can now roam his throat. He tries to put his hands on Kuroo but his jacket is now bunched around his elbows, all but pinning his arms behind him. He hears Kuroo chuckle into his neck as he struggles briefly and then his arms are free and his hands are on Kuroo. He has a thing for Kuroo’s body. All of it. He loves that body, he worships it. His hands are so eager to feel the broad shoulders, the finely cut abs, to run his fingers through that untamed hair. 

He feels Kuroo kissing him in that way he has, like the kiss is the apex of a trajectory, the crest of a wave that started somewhere down at their hips. Kuroo is pushing him along, probably towards the bed but he’s lost all sense of direction and he’s going to wherever Kuroo is taking him. He’s falling. Once on the bed, he hears the soft click of the reading light. Kuroo is looking at him but Tsukishima is trapped in the dark, he can’t see him. He realizes he hasn’t seen Kuroo at all. It could be someone else touching him except it cannot possibly be anyone else. He knows this body so thoroughly. He knows the sound of his voice and the way it makes him shiver when it whispers in his ear. He knows the warmth of his skin, the weight of his body on him, the angles of his broad shoulders and narrow hips, the curve of his ass, the lines of his thighs… 

Kuroo settles himself across his hips and slowly slips Tsukishima’s sweatshirt up, his hands trailing heavily across his stomach, his pecs, thumbs catching his nipples, teasing them until his back is arching. Then the hands slip under his back, and the sweatshirt is pulled up, over his head, and discarded. Tsukishima raises his hands and reaches for Kuroo’s chest, working at the buttons of his shirt while he feels Kuroo rocking slightly on him, just enough to remind him what is still to come. As if he could ever forget. But when the buttons are undone and his hands slip under the fabric, finally caressing that glorious skin, he’s only allowed a few moments before Kuroo takes his wrist and puts them back above his head. “Don’t move…” he drawls. When he lets go, Tsukishima tries to touch him again, only to be restrained anew. He feels Kuroo lean back and fumble with his belt buckle and then Kuroo is holding his wrists again with one hand, while the other wraps his belt around them, tying the other end to the headboard.

He struggles. He always struggles because his stupid pride demands it. Yet in the end, he always goes along with what Kuroo wants because he knows that Kuroo would never ask him to do something he didn't want, something that wouldn't feel right. But he struggles just the same because yielding feels so much better after. Because he loves to give up, give in, relinquish control, and let Kuroo do the very things he fought against.

So he struggles as he feels Kuroo’s strong thighs on either side of him, holding him in place. He struggles because there is still too much fabric between the two of them and he’s desperate to take it all off. He struggles because he wants to put his hands, his mouth, on any part of Kuroo he can reach, but he’s being denied. He briefly feels Kuroo’s breath at his ear, as the other man leans down, asking for confirmation. “Yes?” he whispers.

Tsukishima nods furiously, his breath catching in his throat, but he manages to squeeze out the words: “Yes! Yes…” His hips are pinned down, his shoulders held back by Kuroo’s hands, his hands tied over his head. Kuroo knows how much he loves, how much he needs to touch him but he’s not giving him anything. Instead, Kuroo’s mouth is tracing gently on his collarbone, in the hollow of his throat, on his chest, finding first one nipple, then the other, teasing each one in turn until Tsukishima’s stops straining against the holds and instead he arches himself into the touch. Then, and only once he’s sure that Tsukishima has stopped struggling does Kuroo ease his grip.

He eases off him but keeps one hand lightly poised on his chest. Then another kind of torture begins. Tsukishima does not see where Kuroo is, so each touch comes as a surprise. The fingers trailing down his stomach, dipping briefly into the hollow of his navel until they’re scraping through the sparse trail of pale hair down to the waistband of his jeans. The lips sucking at the skin on the inside of his wrist, just below where the belt sits, making his breathing shallow and uneven. A strong hand gripping his leg, pushing up his knee and then running the nails along the inseam of his pants, from the knee to his crotch, sending a cascade of shivers along his body. Lips again, this time on the crest of his hip bone, just above his pants, sucking and biting on the soft skin until he’s quivering. The palm of a broad hand pressing down on his erection, giving him a tantalizing taste of the pressure he craves, making his hips twitch despite his best efforts. Denied sight, denied any active part, Tsukishima is reduced to a bundle of need and raw nerve endings, lying on the bed, trembling in anticipation, having no idea where the next sensation will come from. 

The next sensation is the easing of the pressure around his wrists, as the belt slacks, and unwinds, and releases him. As soon as he’s free, he sits up on his knees and sweeps his hands around in a circle, trying to find Kuroo. When his hand connects with warm skin he lunges forward, both hands out in front of him, finding Kuroo’s shoulders and pulling himself up against him. After all these tantalizing touches and teasing kisses, he lets his hunger for Kuroo take over: they’re pressed together, skin on skin, from hip to shoulder, Tsukishima’s hands digging into Kuroo’s back, trying to pull him even closer. He craves Kuroo with his whole body. He trails his tongue up Kuroo’s neck, along the jaw, and then to his mouth. When their lips meet he opens his mouth eagerly and takes Kuroo’s tongue in again and again, hungry and lustful. 

Kuroo lets himself be manhandled, enjoying how desperate Tsukishima has become from being refused the touch he craves. He lets his hands drop at his sides and looks at the blonde man as he gropes and fumbles and caresses him. “You’re so needy, Kei. So beautiful…” he purrs. This earns him a hand grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull his head back so that Tsukishima can kiss and suck at the skin of his throat. His hands and mouth are all over him but when his hands reach his waist a frustrated groan escapes Tsukishima. He has a massive infatuation with Kuroo’s thighs but Kuroo is still wearing his pants. Tsukishima pushes him down and blindly fumbles with the button and the zipper. He wrestles the pants off, and in the process he gets Kuroo’s legs to the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, leaning back on his elbows on the bed. 

Tsukishima is on his knees between Kuroo’s legs and he can't imagine a better place to be. His hands are on either side of him, running up and down those thighs, his thumbs digging into the sleek, firm muscles. He presses his face to the inside of the leg and lets his tongue trail a wet path from knee to the edge of Kuroo's briefs. That last obstacle is soon removed and Tsukishima resumes his caress, kissing and gently biting the skin of the inner thigh, listening to Kuroo’s breath hitching. He repeats the experience along the other thigh because he just can't get enough of those legs. Eventually, his hands come to rest on Kuroo’s hips and he runs his thumbs along the crease of the leg and then wraps a hand around Kuroo's cock. He runs his fingers along the length and lowers his head to kiss and lick all around the tip, his fingers still caressing the smooth skin. He hears Kuroo's breath quicken as he takes him in deeper, going down rough and hungry just like he knows Kuroo likes it. Tsukishima puts one hand on Kuroo's abs to feel them spasm and twitch with mounting pleasure. With his eyes still covered, he cannot see them but the motion under his hand is raw and powerful and the feeling goes straight to his cock because he knows that soon Kuroo will be driving into him with the same wild energy. The thought makes him moan around Kuroo and he feels the other man grab his hair and pull him off. He smirks to himself as he runs the back of his hand across his mouth. It's rare that Kuroo loses control like he almost did. The blindfold must be doing things to him too and Tsukishima wishes he could see him as he knows he looks now: eyes blown wide, his mouth open and breathing fast, and a flush blazing up his neck. He can't see but he can _feel_. He crawls his way up the bed and on top of Kuroo, giving his cock a nudge along the way but giving his attention to how, just as he expected, Kuroo’s chest is heaving with quick breaths and how the heat is coming off his skin. He fits himself between Kuroo’s legs and leans in to kiss him. Kuroo’s arms wind around him and then he rolls them until Tsukishima is on his back again, and Kuroo’s grinding into him, making him arch and moan because he’s really wound up now. 

Kuroo moves down, finally removing Tsukishima’s jeans and taking in the sight of his boxers, his cock straining against the fabric, soaked with precome. He peels away the underwear and kisses the length of Tsukishima’s erection, licks it, and nuzzles it. “Oh, look at you, beautiful,” Kuroo croons. He loves the sight of Tsukishima, his narrow hips with prominent hip bones, his lean and wiry muscles under smooth pale skin. He’s so fair and luminous, sharp and unbreakable. He caresses the smooth skin, running his fingers reverently over it. His body is lean and hard and unforgiving. He’s the furthest thing from a soft and pampered princeling but Kuroo loves to treat him like one. He loves to sweep fingers through his hair, trail them across his arms, and watch goosebumps appear in their wake. He likes to softly rub his muscles and he loves how Tsukishima’s eyes flutter closed under his touch and his face turns dreamy soft. He settles himself next to the blonde man and leans down to kiss him, deep and slow. He reaches one hand to unknot the tie and slides his long fingers under the fabric to lift it gently away. He wants to see Tsukishima’s eyes, he wants to see that gentle look of abandon and trust that he finds so irresistible. Tsukishima’s eyes blink open languidly and he lifts a hand to run it through Kuroo’s hair while they keep on kissing.

He reaches behind him to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table. His hands sleek and smooth, he returns to his caresses. Kuroo’s hands trace the body that has become his home. Ever since the first time he was inside him, that time years ago that was both their first, he never felt as complete as when he is with Tsukishima. The way they fit together makes him believe that maybe there is such a thing as destiny, makes him feel there is no one else, there could never be anyone else with whom he can be so completely lost and still be entirely himself. This is more than a caress. This is Kuroo’s fingers writing his devotion, his desire, his belonging, right on Tsukishima’s skin. He lives a strange life, always on the go. Technically, he still lives in his childhood home on the outskirts of Tokyo but it’s a lot more convenient to crash at a friend’s place. Kenma’s flat is big enough and he doesn't mind his comings and goings so he’s there most of the time. The rest of the time he’s staying in hotels all across the country. But home is here. Here in this town, here in this bed. Here in the arms of this man.

Kuroo’s hands slide along the fine muscles of Tsukishima’s legs and circle on the insides of his thighs. His fingers skim and caress all the places that make Tsukishima sigh and shiver and hold his breath. He slips his hand between his legs and gently caresses along his cleft. Here it is, that look in Tsukishima’s eyes that drives him wild: a soft, compliant look, one that no longer resists, no longer pushes back but yields, gives in, accepts, and embraces Kuroo. The feeling that this trust awakens in him is too big for words. To know that this beautiful, proud, strong man is putting himself entirely in his control just takes his breath away. It makes him feel a million feet tall. He’s devoted to this beautiful man, his moonlight prince. He can't even begin to explain this. It’s the one thing in his life that makes perfect and unshakeable sense.

These familiar touches they’ve indulged in before always feel new and exciting with him. And all the new things they explore feel somehow comfortable and familiar and still thrilling and wonderful. He caresses and rubs around his entrance, keeping his eyes on Tsukishima’s face. He slips a finger in and gently begins to work him open. The rhythm of his fingers sliding languidly is almost hypnotic and there’s that dreamy look in Tsukishima’s eyes. He pushes in a bit deeper and flexes his fingers and hits that spot that makes Tsukishima gasp and arch his hips and dig his fingers into the covers. Kuroo recalls the first time he saw this look of wide-eyed wonder on Tsukishima’s face, that voiceless cry of delight curving his mouth. Back then, they were so eager to see just how far they could go, so greedy of these new sensations, too consumed by need to take their time. Now there is nothing stopping them from taking this as slow as they want. He loves to see how each touch takes Tshukishima apart a little more. He knows him so well. He knows he likes to be touched gently and fucked hard. He knows that he scoffs when Kuroo tells him how good he looks but the tips of his ears get pink at the praise and he never misses a chance to arch his back when he feels Kuroo’s eyes on him. He knows the rhythm of his sleeping breaths and the taste of his skin. He knows there is still so much more to learn and that knowledge fills him with so much joy.

Yet eventually Kuroo slips his fingers out and Tshukishima moans at the loss, grabbing his shoulder with his strong fingers. Kuroo leans over him and hums little reassuring sounds because he doesn’t want him to feel abandoned or neglected even for an instant. He moves over him and nudges his legs up and apart. Just one more moment to prep himself and he’s pressing in, finally joining them in a way that makes them both moan, Tsukishima quietly, hardly more than a sigh, Kuroo throaty and lustful. This is how they fit together. This is how they join so perfectly that it feels impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Kuroo starts moving slowly, long languid thrusts, their moans and gasps mingling into one single breath. This is good, so good, hot, tight, and perfect. More than perfect. So much _more_. Tsukishima meets each of his thrusts with a tilt of his hips, taking him in as far as he will go. His fingers tighten on Kuroo skin, holding on so tight Kuroo hopes he’ll leave bruises where his fingers are digging in. He’d love to keep those marks forever. He’d love to always be able to see where Tsukishima’s fingers had been, especially when he’s on his own in some hotel room far away. 

Seeing Tsukishima so open and unguarded beneath him, his need grips him like a hand, yanking at his insides and he snaps his hips, driving hard into Tsukishima, again and again. He feels his pleasure mounting with every thrust, his heart swelling with every gasp and whimper he pounds out of Tsukishima. His eyes are bright, wide open, and looking at Kuroo like he’s the only thing keeping him afloat. “Please,” he begs in a breathless whisper. “Please, let me ride you…” Kuroo rolls them around and leans back. Tsukishima climbs eagerly onto his lap and slips over him, grinding his hips until he finds the right spot, the angle that’s just right. He lifts himself up and slides down, taking Kuroo in until he's pressed hard against Kuroo’s thighs. His muscles clench around Kuroo, and he pushes himself up and drops again, and again. He feels Kuro’s muscles quiver under him and he feels him throbbing inside, hot and hard, filling him. Kuroo’s eyes are on him, wide and wonderstruck, holding on to Tsukishima’s hips. Then his head snaps back and his orgasm rips through him in stuttering waves. Tsukishima rides him through his climax, each move hitting just right until his eyes are swimming with tears, until he’s about to come just from having Kuroo inside him, and then Kuroo reaches up, wraps his fingers around him, and strokes him until he’s spilling all over them both. 

\---

He wakes to hear noises from the little kitchen corner meaning that Kuroo's already up and busy making that devil's brew he calls coffee. It’s a deep brown concoction, tar-thick, velvety smooth, and hellishly strong. Despite his initial misgivings, Tsukishima has grown fond of it, the subtle layers of bitterness with an aftertaste that makes him inexplicably think of ripe strawberries. 

He walks in, wearing only pajama pants, and tosses Kuroo’s tie on the counter next to the coffee maker. “Your tie? _This_ tie?” he scoffs.

Kuroo pours carefully the coffee into two waiting cups and smirks. “Hey, I was improvising! Besides, didn't hear you complain about it last night..” he drawls, putting some sugar cubes on the saucers next to the cups.

“That’s because _I_ couldn't see it. I can't believe you wear that hideous thing out in public. I think it just became my favorite,” Tsukishima answers, dropping a single cube into his cup and stirring slowly. 

“In that case, I’ll wear it to all my most important meetings,” Kuroo dips a sugar cube into his coffee and then pops it into his mouth and crushes it between his teeth with a predatory grin. “Hey, that reminds me, I brought you something,” he says, striding to where his coat is draped carelessly over a chair. He fishes around the pockets until he pulls out a small box from somewhere deep inside and hands it to Tsukishima. It’s dark blue and tied with a red string tied in an elaborately knotted seal. It looks like something from a fancy jewelry store but that can't be right. Tsukishima shoots Kuroo an inquisitive look before gently sliding and removing the string. He looks at Kuroo again and there's no mistaking the devious smile on his lips. He's definitely up to something. Tsukishima gently lifts the lid and peels away a layer of soft fabric. Underneath is a rock, pale beige, about half the size of Tsukishima's palm, with a clear and incredibly detailed imprint of a tiny fossil fish in the center. Tsukishima's mouth falls open in surprise. He lifts the stone carefully out of the box and looks at it from all angles, running his fingers gently along the surface, tracing the outline. He knows that Kuroo is watching him but he doesn't look up so he doesn't see the tender light in his eyes. When he turns to look again at Kuroo, there is only his usual sly grin. "Wow," he says quietly. 

Kuroo is running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, clearly pleased with himself. But he's not done yet. "I thought you could name him George," he adds off-hand, pointing at the fossil and taking a sip of his coffee. 

"Huh?" Tsukishima's not getting it.

"Your pet. George." He can't keep it together any longer and starts laughing. "Your pet. Rock. Get it?” 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes so hard they almost hurt. “Oh. My. God. You didn’t…” he looks disbelieving at Kuroo, doubled over in laughter. “You actually got me a fossil just so you could make a lame pet rock joke?!..” He asks in disbelief but he can’t help the soft smile making its way across his face. “You’re such a dork,” he adds tenderly, placing the fossil carefully on his desk. “Thank you.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this.... leave a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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